Confessions by the flames
by Random Snippets
Summary: Oneshot! Two people come and listen to what a boy confesses to the flames of the fire. Is nothing too late for the heart of Harry Potter?


**-A/N: It's my second one-shot. Review please!**

A boy crept down the stairs to the Gryffindor Common Room. The coldness of the stone steps seeped through his bare feet. Somehow the cold touch was comforting to him. It reminded that he was still alive. It was a good thought. He wondered if one day he would never be able to feel the cold bite of the crisp morning air or smell the aroma of breakfast in the Great Hall.

His feet finally reached the thick carpet of the Common Room. He could see the fire still roaring merrily. It lit the whole room in a soft light. He knew that at this time, no one would still be in the Common Room. He walked to his favorite armchair right in front of the fire. He flung himself back into the chair and tossed back his head. The quietness of the Common Room soothed him. It was building inside him, the guilt. It was all there, the guilt of not being able to revenge those who had died at the hand of the Dark Lord. He knew he could not do anything, yet. It was too early. All the horcruxes had not been found yet. It was pointless in attacking something that was near invincible. He would not yet make a move on the Board of Life. He still had to bide his time.

The cries of those who had died, it built on him. It was the guilt of still being alive when so many others had lost their life, believing in him. Was it all a lost cause? He held his head in his hands and moaned. Why him? It was all taking a toll on him. Insomnia was only one of the consequences. He took his head out of his hands and stared deeply in the flames of the fire. The way the flames danced from one place to another. It intrigued him. 'The Dance of the Flames,' he thought to himself. Slowly, he found himself talking, at first in his mind but then to the flickering flames. He talked of all his thoughts. He talked of the guilt that gnawed at his heart; he talked of the matters that pulled at his heart with such a painful throb.

Another boy with red hair rubbed his eyes sleepily. He did not know what had woken him up. He usually slept very soundly and nothing seemed to wake him up, so what had. He looked around. Nothing had been disturbed and looked out of the ordinary. He opened his hangings and got up. He did not know what led him down the stone steps to the Common Room. He did not know what was making him do this. He would have liked to stay up in his bed and sleep but here he was, walking down the cold steps. He stopped at the sound of someone talking. He soon realized who it was and sat down on the steps to listen to what was being said.

There was a sofa not too far from the fire but far enough to not be noticed. A girl had fallen asleep on this couch previously. She had been reading one of her subject books when sleep had claimed her. She had woken up, intending to make her way back to her dormitory without a fuss but she had heard a familiar voice talking. She poked her head up and saw a boy staring deeply into the fire. He was also talking, but not to any person but to the fire. She tilted her head in thought. Was a person talking to Harry via the fire? No, that could not be possible, she would have been able to hear the other person's voice. She lied back down and listened to her friend.

Harry talked and talked, but then he stopped abruptly. He could not talk about that. He could not and would not. It was a matter even he could not think of coming into terms to. He shook his head in frustration. The flames of the fire danced and encouraged him to tell everything that was troubling him. He relented. He started hesitantly but progressed to talk strongly.

Ron had his mouth opened in amazement. He could not imagine his friend carrying such things in his mind, the ordeal having every person's hope on his shoulders. He did not realize that Harry was so worried of what would happen if he could not defeat the Dark Lord. He did not realized what Harry went through when he felt guilty of all the lives that were lost. He had not realized how he had felt, losing Sirius when he was almost like his own father. He had not realized, but now at least he knew. He listened to what Harry had started to talk about now.

Hermione felt something throb in her when she heard what Harry talked about. It made her cry silently with hot tears rolling down her cheeks. How could Harry cope with it all? How could he find the courage to wake up every morning? She felt something in her change. She could not describe it but she knew something had become different. She felt wiser when she knew that all the worries she had felt were petty things compared to the worries of Harry. She admired him for that and something else made her heart feel so painful in her chest.

The flames of the fire flickered and listened to what the boy talked about. He talked of his confusion of what his feelings were for a girl. He did not know why he felt so hurt whenever he looked at her. Some quality about her made him feel as if there was no such thing as the Dark Lord or death. There were only rainbows and bursts of color everywhere for him whenever he thought of her. He did not know what he would do if he lost her too. He hesitated. Should he reveal her name? Should he reveal the name of the very person that made him feel as if there was a meaning in the world? Should he?

The boy sitting on the stone steps straightened up a bit more. He could not believe what he was hearing. Was it possible that someone had filled the empty hole in his friend's life? Could it really be true? He held his breath, a name, that was all, a name.

Hermione felt something black and desperate stir up in her. She frowned at this. What could it be? Was it possibly…? No it could not. It was the same feeling she had felt when Ron had been dating Lavender Brown, but with a greater force. Could it really be jealousy? Was it jealousy for an unknown girl who had enraptured the heart of her dear friend Harry?

Harry breathed in deeply and breathed out. He whispered the name so softly that the two people listening had to strain to hear the name, but when they did, both froze. One froze in pure astonishment and the other joy. Both slowly realized the true meaning of this and accepted it.

The boy who sat in the armchair started to cry. She was in danger now. The Dark Lord would use whoever was close to him. If heaven forbid, she was used, he would never be able to forgive himself. He now realized that he loved her. He loved and cherished her with all his heart could give. She made his life spin with joy at the very thought of her. He cried with anguish now. What would he do? She was for another not for him but she was his everything! He whispered this to the flames and they flickered faster still.

One girl got up from the sofa and without a word retreated to her dormitory. She had been given so many things to think about. One boy got up and climbed the stairs to his bed. He had made his choice already of what to do. He knew what he would do was right. It had to be right. He didn't feel the same thing for the girl as Harry did. He entered the dormitory with a smile on his face. It was the right thing to do…

One boy was left in the Common Room by himself. Dawn peaked her first rays through the large windows of the Common Room. A soft red light lit the boy's face and made it look peaceful for the first time in a long time. He closed his eyes and drifted off to a peaceful sleep, whispering the girl's name one last time,

"Hermione…"


End file.
